Nature and The Smith-Telfer Photography Collection

By John Hart, Assistant Curator of Collections

I had a pleasant surprise during NYSHA’s Annual Meeting recently involving the work I used to do for Rights and Reproductions for Fenimore Art Museum and The Farmers’ Museum. David Stradling, author of The Nature of New York: An Environmental History of the Empire State, was the keynote presenter this year and discussed the examination of the idealized landscapes of the Hudson River School artists.

It was a fascinating presentation and before he even began, he took a moment to thank me for the images I provided him from the Smith-Telfer Photography Collection for his book! I would get thank you notes once in a while, but have never been thanked, let alone acknowledged, in a university professor’s presentation before. It was certainly unexpected, greatly appreciated, and a privilege to help him with his book project.

If you have an interest in environmental history, The Nature of New York: An Environmental History of the Empire State, is certainly a book you should consider reading. And since the weather is starting to cooperate (maybe I should knock on wood now…), go out and enjoy the nature that David writes about. There’s nothing like a nice hike up a mountain to see what the great artists of the Hudson River School admired so greatly.

A Camera Which Shall Be Wholly Concealed

By Douglas Kendall, Curator of Collections

These days, cameras are everywhere. Wherever there’s a smart phone, there’s a camera. Sales of dedicated cameras are down; the almost-universal acceptance of the camera in a phone has even affected recently chic devices such as the Flip Video camera, which is going out of production.

The only thing really new about this phenomenon of cameras that don’t look like cameras is its ubiquity. There must have been a demand for concealed cameras early in the development of photography. By the 1880s, inventors had created cameras designed to look like hats, satchels, books, binoculars, walking sticks and (my personal favorite) revolvers. Pulling a camera that looks like a gun seems like a sure way to reduce the population of photographers quickly.

Cooperstown’s own Arthur Telfer, whose photographs can be seen via the Fenimore Art Museum’s Collections page, owned a camera designed to be hidden behind the photographer’s vest. The disc-shaped design was patented by Robert D. Gray of New York City in 1886; he soon sold the patent to one C. P. Stirn. The camera was manufactured for and marketed by Stirn & Lyon of New York and was also sold in Germany. The relatively thin disc was held behind a man’s vest; the lens aligned with a buttonhole.

Vest Camera

Nickel-plated brass

Made for Stirn & Lyon, New York, NY, ca. 1888

Gift of Arthur J. Telfer, N0064.1945. Photo: Douglas Kendall

How did the Vest Camera work in practice? The directions made it sound simple: “place it under the coat or vest in such a manner as to show only the lens, which, in the shape of a button, is fastened in a button-hole, thus giving the Camera a firm, steady position. In order to secure a good, clear picture, place your right hand over the vest exactly where the Camera is hidden, point the lens toward the centre of the object to be photographed and, by pulling with your left hand on the string hanging from the lower part of the Camera, you secure the first picture. Now turn the centre screw or button of the Camera with the dart to No. 2, which causes the Dry Plate to change its position and makes it ready for the next picture; continue thus until six pictures are taken and after that change the Plate for a new one in the dark-room and again you are ready for six more pictures."

I have to wonder how long the secretive camera bug would be able to maintain the deception while engaged in all those awkward hand movements. But apparently the idea of the Vest Camera captivated a lot of Americans. The company’s ads claimed that 13,000 had been sold within two years of Gray’s patent. In 19th century terms, it was probably nearly as big a sensation as the Flip was in the 21st century. It’s not clear how long the craze lasted, but specialized accessories were still being introduced in 1889.

“C. P. Stirn’s Patent Concealed Vest Camera”

Advertisement for the C.P. Sterns, Concealed Vest Camera, published in the April issue of Scribners magazine, 1889. Found at: Historic Camera

We don’t know why Arthur Telfer acquired a Concealed Vest Camera, but he kept it until 1945, when he gave it to the New York State Historical Association, parent of the Fenimore Art Museum. A few years later, Telfer gave NYSHA the entire collection of glass-plate negatives taken by him and his predecessor and partner, Washington Smith, beginning in 1853.

Motorin' Along, with the photo collection

John Hart, Assistant Curator of Collections

Driving past the Otesaga Resort Hotel, just down the street from the Fenimore Art Museum, is pretty much a daily occurrence for me since the storage facility for the museum is about two miles away from the actual Museum campus. I’m not usually surprised by what I see when I drive by, though there are a few times when my heart skips and I start to drool (not really, but close enough). Those are the times when a high-end car club will be there, probably having lunch at the Hawkeye Bar & Grill, or maybe even staying the night.

The other day there were several of what I think were Stutz Bearcats in the parking lot at the resort, though I’m not as familiar with those as I am with the more recognizable Ford of the pre-1932 vintage. Since I’m a car guy and own my grandfather’s 1929 Ford Model A Fordor, I thought maybe showing a few period photographs of historic automobiles from our Smith & Telfer Collection would be interesting.

My grandfather’s 1929 Model A

The first two show the same car at two different times in its life, but driven by the same person. In 1934, Arthur “Putt” Telfer (one half of the Smith & Telfer firm) must have thought this would be an interesting image to have - an old Model T Ford next to a probably-brand new 1934 Ford Victoria. The Victoria was Ford’s newest innovation after the Model A with a flathead V8 under the hood, a remarkable difference in speed and power compared to the Model T and A.

“Putt parked by 1934 Ford,” 1934

N0012.1975(0511). PH6820

Only a few years later the image below was taken, showing once again Putt behind the wheel of his car. In this image Louis Jones, one of the first directors of the New York State Historical Association (Fenimore Art Museum is the museum of NYSHA) in Cooperstown, is standing alongside the car talking to Putt while someone fills the front tire with air; we’re not sure who that person is unfortunately, maybe one of Putt’s grandsons?

“Lou Jones, Putt Telfer, Unidentified man,” ca. 1952

N0012.1975(0505). PH6814

The final image from the collection that I came across nearly made me fall to the floor. Not because it’s a beautiful car, though that was certainly part of it, but because this driver, Harry Davey is indirectly related to a Cooperstown family who was on the Titanic the night it sank. Davey was the driver for the Ryerson family. Arthur Ryerson and his wife Emily, their son John and their daughters, Emily and Susan, along with Emily’s maid, Victorine Chaudanson, were vacationing in Europe when they learned that their son, Arthur, Jr., had died in a car crash. The family boarded the Titanic in Liverpool. When the ship hit the iceberg and started to sink, Arthur Sr. gave up his own life-belt on the Titanic to save Victorine; he was never seen again. Despite several attempts, I could not learn anything of Davey, nor this beautiful car, even after staring at it for a long while.

“Harry Davey, Ryerson's Driver”

N0012.1975(0501). PH6810

The collection of images at the Fenimore Art Museum is pretty extensive and always growing, though my favorites by far are the historical images that you don’t always know you have.

See It Now in 3-D! Hi-tech imagery of the 1880s.

Doug Kendall, Curator of Collections

If you’ve been to the movies lately, you know that “3-D” is back in a big way. More and more movies must be viewed using plastic glasses provided by the theatre in return for a premium ticket price. I recently saw Despicable Me which was shown using “Real D 3D” TM technology. The movie was amusing, though I’m not convinced the illusion of three dimensions added much to it.

Of course, this isn’t the first wave of “3-D” image technology. 3-D goes way back—much further than Bwana Devil (1952) starring Robert Stack, considered the first color, American 3-D movie. As early as the 1860s, photographers were capturing images that could be viewed as if they were 3-dimensional. The last half of the 19th century was the first golden age of stereoscopic still images, usually known as stereographs or stereopticons.

It is necessary to take two photographs for a stereoscopic image. In the 19th century, photographers such as Cooperstown’s Washington G. Smith did this with two cameras or with one camera moved quickly to two positions.

In the Cooperstown area, Smith and his rival A. A. Cooley provided tourists with 3-D mementoes of their holidays on Otsego Lake. Cooley took this image of Kingfisher Tower, Edward Clark’s “folly” on the eastern shore of the lake, shortly after it was built in 1876. Smith recorded the journeys of the steamboat Natty Bumppo up and down the waters of the Glimmerglass.

Point Judith with Kingfisher Tower
Stereographic print on cardboard.
A. A. Cooley, Cooperstown, after 1876.
N0003.1995(PH46703)

Then again, stereoscopy also lent itself well to images of extraordinary events, such as “Professor Maillefert’s Sub-Marine Exhibition,” photographed by Smith in August 1871. Benjamin Maillefert, a Spanish-born engineer, pioneered methods of underwater blasting that helped make New York’s Hell Gate safe for shipping. Evidently he also travelled the country to demonstrate his methods. His performance on Otsego Lake was “witnessed by a large number of highly interested spectators” according to S. M. Shaw’s Chronicles of Cooperstown. Wash Smith undoubtedly believed that those spectators—as well as those who didn’t see the explosions first-hand—would want a 3-dimensional record of the event.

Professor Maillefert’s Sub-Marine Exhibition
Stereographic print on cardboard.
Washington G. Smith, 1871.
N1289.1946

Stereoscopy has faded in and out of popularity in the years since these images were created. With the reboot of cinematic 3-D and the advent of 3-D televisions and digital cameras, perhaps we are seeing its latest boom—will 3-D last this time?

Steamboat Landing-Rose Lawn
Stereographic print on cardboard.
Washington G. Smith, 1872-1898.
F0147.1959(38)